THE MERMAID AND THE BUTTERFLY
by MorphoFan
Summary: Sirena Ong is attacked one night in Central Park, and rescued by The Blue Morpho and Kano. But a misunderstanding causes her father to think The Blue Morpho was her attacker. Now Wide Wale is out for the vigilante's blood, and not even Kano can protect him from a father's rage.


THE MERMAID AND THE BUTTERFLY

Sirena Ong sat on the floor in her private bathroom with a switchblade. She winced as she dug the point into the soft underside of her forearm. She did this several times a month, and it still hurt just as much every time.

The tip of the knife hit hard plastic, and she carefully pried the capsule-shaped tracking chip from her flesh. It popped out and bounced on the floor, spinning before coming to a rest, leaving a little circular streak of blood on the gold-flecked, cream marble.

She grabbed a wad of toilet paper, pressing it into her new wound. The bleeding stopped quickly, as it usually did. Flushing the stained tissue, she reached over and picked up the chip.

Clenching the hated thing in her hand, she thought for a moment of flushing it, but she knew that it would just mean another chip implanted in her arm tomorrow. Her overprotective father made her crazy at times.

She couldn't bring herself to hate him; he was still her Dad, after all. But knowing that she was constantly being tracked...

Getting to her feet, she took the bloody chip to the sink and carefully rinsed it off, along with the knife. Her new plan was to carry the chip in her pocket... Except for when she just plain needed to be alone.

After the dinner she'd had with her father, she needed to be alone NOW.

Her father, Chester Ong, was the renowned New York City super-villain known as Wide Wale. At dinner tonight, he had barely paid her any mind at all. He'd been too busy talking with Rocco and the other guards about some new vigilante thorn in his side.

The Blue Morpho and Kano? Not that she'd been paying much attention to the details. She knew of his illegal business dealings, but she stayed out of it.

She was more concerned with the way he kept brushing her off, like she was a child being sent off to play in the nursery while the grownups were talking.

Sirena had recently started seeing Hank Venture, the blond son of her father's arch-enemy, Dr. Rusty Venture. In fact, he was the one who had given her the knife.

Needless to say, she couldn't let her father know about the relationship. Rocco knew about it, but she had made it clear that if he said a word to her father, she'd have him fired and black-listed in the entire tri-state area.

She could do it, too... Being the child of a super-villain had taught her a few things. The only reason she didn't get rid of Rocco was because he was pretty stupid, and easy to get around. If he were to leave her father's employ, her dad might replace him with someone with more than four brain cells, and that would make her life even more difficult.

Hank wanted to take her to dinner and a show on Broadway next Friday night, and her father was not cooperating. He wanted Rocco to chaperone.

"I'm not going anyplace dangerous, it's just a date!" she'd insisted, "I'll be perfectly fine on my own!"

"Sirena, you're my only child, and there are people in this city who would hurt you to get at me," her father had explained to her.

"That's right, princess," Rocco had chimed in, "There's tons of no-good bastards in New York, and you're a very pretty girl. It's not safe for you to go out without me."

Gross. Rocco creeped her out SO badly when he talked about her like that... Like he had a thing for her or something.

"Dad, you gotta loosen my freakin' CHAIN a little bit!" she had said, pushing her plate away, her appetite ruined, "I'm eighteen years old, I NEED a social life!"

"I don't have time to discuss this right now, Tadpole," her father had finally said, holding up a hand and putting an end to the debate, "You run on up to bed, and I'll see you in the morning."

She'd pushed her chair back so hard it crashed over backwards. Ignoring the impressed chuckles of Rocco and the other Whale Lice dickheads, she stormed out of the dining room and up to her private suite.

Her tracking chip successfully removed and her knife hidden away in her bureau drawer, she was now busily stuffing pillows under the covers of her huge, luxurious bed. Her father and Rocco would each look in on her once during the night.

They would open the door a crack, peek in to make sure she was asleep, and then creep back out. The same thing happened every night.

When she'd finished making a fake sleeping body out of pillows, she took the chip out of her pocket and stuffed it beneath one of the pillows. Now even if they tracked her, it would show her safe and sound in her ivory tower.

The little princess, protected from all the bad things in the world. Holy effing shit...

She glanced at her bedside clock and saw it was about two in the morning. The doorman downstairs always took a break at ten past two.

With her laptop, Sirena had been monitoring the feed from the security cameras in the corridors and lobby for months; she knew how and when to sneak out to avoid her father's guards. She also knew how to hack into the video files and erase any evidence of her nightly ventures.

Collecting her favorite beach towel and some cash for cab fare, she slipped silently out the door of her bedroom and tiptoed down the hall to the elevator. She knew exactly where she was going.

Half an hour later, she sat at the end of the boat dock by the lake in Central Park, looking down into the water. The nearly-full moon sparkled on the lake so beautifully. This was her favorite place in the entire city. It was secluded, quiet, and peaceful. This time of the night it was also deserted.

Sitting here beside the water, it didn't even seem as if she was in dirty, noisy, overcrowded New York at all.

She took off her jacket, shirt and jeans and laid them in a neat pile next to the towel she'd brought with her. Then she stood at the end of the dock, and dove in. The water refreshed her thirsty skin like a cold drink after a long run. She felt the gills on her neck flutter open, and she submerged herself to float weightless in the water.

Not far from the lake, the Monarch and his henchman 21 were working, disguised as their alter-egos, The Blue Morpho and Kano.

They were testing out some technology that 21 had discovered in a dusty cabinet in the Morpho Cave. It was labeled as a distress beacon, and consisted of two small transmitters, each about the size of a standard cigarette lighter, plus a hand-held receiver.

The receiver was reminiscent of the first enormous, brick-like mobile phones of the early eighties. It had an expandable antenna and small satellite dish mounted on the top. The front of the unit mostly consisted of a screen. When it was powered on, the screen showed a map, overlaid with a grid and coordinates.

21 picked up one of the two small transmitters, the one with "Kano" engraved on the watertight housing, and clicked the small, rubber-coated button at its base. A small bulb on the unit began to blink.

On the receiver's screen, a tiny letter 'K' blinked on with a beep.

"This one's working," he said with a nod. He clicked it off again, and the little 'K' vanished.

He handed the second transmitter, engraved with "Morpho," to Monarch. When he clicked the button, the receiver's screen showed a minuscule 'M'.

"This one works, too," Monarch said, clicking it off, "UNbeLIEVable...how are the batteries still good after all these years?"

"Wellll, Jonas Venture Sr. didn't exactly use Ray-O-Vac double A cells," 21 replied with a grin.

"What do you mean?"

21 indicated the tiny nuclear symbol on the housing of his transmitter.

"Oh, HELL no," Monarch said, holding his own transmitter away from his body, "You can just KEEP this bad boy...,"

His bodyguard just chuckled and shook his head.

"Dude, relax," he insisted, "I already used the Geiger counter in the lab. It's cool, radiation is fully contained."

"Ehh," Monarch whined nervously, "Wait, we have a Geiger counter?"

"Yeah."

"Cool," Monarch replied with an impressed nod.

"OK, time for a field test," 21 said.

He gestured around at the woods surrounding the small clearing they were in.

"I'll give you a count of 100 while you go and hide," he ordered, "Then cut on your transmitter and we'll see how long it takes me to find you."

Monarch started toward the woods at a jog.

"No peeking!" he called back over his shoulder.

"Fine," 21 laughed, covering his eyes, "One... two... three..."

Sirena sat on one of the benches along the path, deep in thought as she finished drying her hair. She always felt better after a swim. It was part of her condition that her skin get wet every six hours.

She had been receiving private lifesaving lessons up until a few months back, which she really enjoyed. But she had made the mistake of getting too friendly with her instructor, and her father had put an end to the lessons. One more connection to the outside world terminated.

There was a magnificent indoor swimming pool at Tophet Tower, but sometimes she just had to feel pure, non-chlorinated water on her body. She had to feel free and natural.

The gills were hers from birth, a genetic mutation caused by an experimental anti-cancer drug her father had tested on himself before she was conceived. He and her late uncle Douglas had developed the serum from the DNA of something called a cuttlefish.

Both men had experimented on themselves with the serum, and both had suffered severe mutations to their DNA. They had both developed the qualities of air-breathing marine mammals.

Only Sirena had developed gills. When she thought about it, she figured it was lucky she also had lungs to breathe air. It would have royally sucked to be confined to a tank her entire life, even if her father would have provided the best tank that shit-tons of money and questionable connections could buy.

Thinking about her father brought tears to her eyes. She knew that he loved her more than anything in the world, and that he only wanted to keep her safe, but it also felt as if he didn't trust her.

He still saw her as the sweet, helpless little girl who'd lost her mother when she was three years old. But she was eighteen, now. She was a woman. If only she could make him understand...

21 strode purposefully through the woods, studying the readout on the receiver. The little 'M' on the grid indicated that Monarch was about 20 feet straight ahead.

He neared the spot and slowed down, listening for his partner. A few more steps brought him to the base of a huge, gnarly old tree, and he smiled. According to the coordinates, Monarch was hiding on the opposite side of the trunk.

Keeping his back to the tree, he quietly crept around, intending to sneak up on his friend. With a triumphant shout, he leaped around the trunk, expecting to see Monarch.

But he wasn't there.

"What the...?"

He studied the readout again. According to the receiver, he was right on top of the other man. He looked around, but there was no sign of his partner. Was there something wrong with the system?

Annoyed, he rapped on the side of the receiver and gave it a frustrated shake.

"THAT'S why we can't have nice things!"

"GEEZ!" 21 nearly jumped out of his skin, and Monarch's laughter drifted down from above.

He looked up. The red-haired man was stretched out on his belly on a branch of the tree above 21's head, chuckling down at his henchman.

"OK, you got me," 21 conceded, holding a hand over his pounding heart, "Very funny."

"I thought so," Monarch replied, grinning down at him from the branch like the Cheshire Cat. He sat up and straddled the branch, swinging his legs.

"Heart attack aside," 21 went on, holding up the receiver, "We know it works - well in two dimensions, anyway."

"Excellent," Monarch replied, twirling his fedora around on one finger.

"How did you even get up there?" 21 asked, impressed, coming to stand directly beneath the branch.

"Agility," Monarch replied, "I'm like a leopard."

His hat fell and he grabbed for it, tilted too far, and slipped sideways off the branch.

"ACK!"

21 instinctively dropped the receiver and reached out as Monarch came plummeting out of the tree. He managed to catch him, but it sent them both to the ground with a bone-jarring thud.

A few leaves floated down from the tree, and there was silence for a few moments, broken only by the nearby hooting of an owl.

"A leopard," 21 groaned from beneath his boss, "Would have landed on his feet. Oww."

"Sorry," Monarch said sheepishly.

"HOW do you weigh so much?" the henchman grumbled, "There's like, nothing TO you."

"I'm dense," the older man explained.

"You are, indeed."

"OK, I'm gonna let you have that one," the red-haired man snickered, "But don't push it."

"All right, OFF," 21 muttered, rolling Monarch off of him and sitting up, "Did you hit your head?"

"Nah," Monarch mumbled, shifting his hips uncomfortably, "But I think I have splinters in my junk."

"Yeah, well," 21 laughed, holding up a hand, "You're on your own, there."

The older man chuckled, giving his bodyguard a grateful pat on the cheek. He disentangled himself from the larger man and crawled to pick up the receiver from among the leaves.

"Still works!" he announced, holding it up, "It's sturdier than it looks. Jonas Venture Sr. really knew his shit."

"No kidding," 21 said as he got to his feet. He reached down and took Monarch's hand and pulled him up, then took the receiver from his hands.

"This system is going to be really useful," the burly henchman said, nodding in admiration. He turned the unit so they could both see the screen.

"What kind of range are we talking?" Monarch asked, retrieving his hat and clicking off his transmitter.

"Looks to be about 300 square miles," 21 replied, a nerdy smile lighting up his face, "So, I can find you anyplace in the city!"

"Or I can find YOU," Monarch added, putting his hat back on, "Right?"

21 just looked at him.

"What?" Monarch asked, putting his hands on his hips.

"Refresh my memory," 21 replied, gesturing between them, "Which one of us is always in trouble?"

Monarch folded his arms and sulked.

"YOU are exaggerating," he mumbled, pointing a finger at his partner, "I'm not ALWAYS in trouble."

"Dude, you just fell out of a TREE, and we're not even on a mission."

"Well if you're going to nit-pick...," the tall man complained.

"OK, let's make a list," 21 continued, "In the few months since we started this masked vigilante gig, you have been: hopelessly lost in the underground sewer system... trapped in a derelict building that was about to be imploded...,"

"Fiiine, point taken," Monarch relented, jamming his hands into his pockets, looking at the ground.

"Nearly sacrificed to Odin by the local cult crazies... handcuffed to the train tracks by crooked cops... almost fed into a concrete grinder...," 21 continued, listing on his fingers.

"Okaaaay," Monarch whined, kicking a clod of dirt.

"Kidnapped by the infatuated, obsessed stalker-lady..."

"Well, that one was kinda fun...," Monarch muttered wistfully, blushing, twisting a little.

"Imprisoned in the crazy billionaire's death maze... shall I go on?"

"No."

21 laughed, and reached over to tug Monarch's fedora down over his eyes.

"Dude... I love my job," the henchman chuckled, "But there's a REASON that Kano's title is 'bodyguard' and THEN 'chauffeur'."

"Yes," Monarch replied with a grin, straightening his hat, "It's because you're a lousy driver."

"Dingus," 21 chuckled, draping an arm over his friend's shoulders and turning to head back to the car.

Sirena glanced at her watch and saw it was quarter to four. Time to start home.

A twig snapped in the woods behind her, and she jumped. She listened closely for a few moments, but didn't hear anything else. Probably just a fox, there were lots of them in the park these days.

She stretched, and got up from the bench. If her timing was right, Nelson the doorman would be on his pre-dawn coffee break when she got home, and she could sneak in without being discovered.

Another twig snapped.

Sirena whirled, peering into the darkness, holding her breath. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, and she felt she was being watched.

It was definitely time to go home.

She turned and headed down the path, reluctantly leaving the warm, bright little circle of the streetlamp. As she entered the darkness, she thought she heard footsteps, and she quickened her pace.

The next streetlight was only fifty feet ahead, and that circle of light seemed unusually safe and welcoming. She hurried to it, and breathed a small sigh of relief as she entered the lighted area. Leaning against the metal lamppost, she closed her eyes, and tried to slow her pounding heart.

She was a tough New York girl, not some frail little flower from the country. Why was she letting her imagination get the best of her? The park was always deserted this time of night.

Taking a deep breath and shaking off her silly fears, she started down the path again. She stepped out of the light.

Footsteps sounded behind her, again. It wasn't her imagination.

She whirled, and they stopped. She looked into the darkness between this streetlight and the last, but couldn't see anyone.

Ironic that she had sneaked out, and now all she wanted was to be back home in her penthouse, safe and warm in her bed.

As she turned to break into a run, a tall, thin, shadowy figure loomed up in front of her.

Sirena gasped in terror and stumbled backwards, right into the arms of another dark figure. Before she could scream, a rough, calloused hand clamped over her mouth.

The huge man behind her wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her, and she kicked frantically, clawing at the hand muffling her. The figure in front of her stepped toward her, and grabbed her flailing legs.

They hauled her off the path and into the woods, and though she fought like a wildcat, they were bigger and stronger then she was.

The one holding her upper body stumbled slightly, and the hand muffling her was loosened as he regained his balance. It was all she needed...

Wrenching the hand from her mouth, she sank her teeth into it. The extremity's owner gave a shout, instinctively yanking his hand away, and Sirena screamed.

"How long is your wife going to be on Meteor Majeure for this summit?" 21 asked, as he pocketed his transmitter and tucked the receiver into the gear bag he'd brought.

"A few days."

Monarch's wife was on the Council for the biggest super-villain union in the world, The Guild of Calamitous Intent. As The Mighty Monarch, he himself was a member of the Guild. But due to a bureaucratic double-cross instigated by the villain Wide Wale, he'd been rendered more or less powerless as a super-villain.

He'd been sinking into a terrible depression before they'd found the Morpho Cave.

The secret lair was hidden beneath Monarch's childhood home, where he, his wife and 21 now resided. It was where his now-long-deceased father had first created the character of the original Blue Morpho, a masked vigilante and anti-hero, assisted by his bodyguard and chauffeur, Kano.

So at the urging of Monarch's solitary henchman 21, the two of them had secretly assumed the roles of The Blue Morpho and Kano: The Next Generation. Not even his wife knew of their secret identities.

In fact, the only person besides themselves who DID know was Red Death. The terrifying, skinless super-villain Red Death was not only supportive, kind and helpful toward their endeavor, he was also totally on board with keeping their secret.

Along with the cave, Monarch had inherited all The Blue Morpho costumes, equipment, vehicles, and technology. They were still uncovering new gadgets and weaponry, the testing of which had brought them to the park tonight in the first place.

The original plan was just to use their vigilante alter-egos to eliminate the villains that stood between Monarch and his life-long arch nemesis, Dr. Rusty Venture. But the longer he and 21 play-acted at being masked heroes, the more he began to realize that he'd found his unlikely niche.

He still couldn't bring himself use the words 'Good Guy.'

"Do I need to ask what the topic of the meeting is THIS time?" 21 asked wryly as he zipped up the gear bag and shouldered it.

Pulled out of his reverie, Monarch just gave a miserable chuckle in response, shaking his head.

As if his identity crisis wasn't stressful enough, his beloved wife, Dr. Mrs. The Monarch, was in charge of a task force created to hunt down and assassinate The Blue Morpho. She had no idea that she was married to the man she was determined to kill.

Sometimes it felt like more tribulation than one man could handle, even one man with two different identities.

He distractedly tucked his distress transmitter into the inside breast pocket of his overcoat, and gave a yawn and stretch, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet.

"I figured as much," 21 muttered, "She was all kinds of pissed-off about the Red Death sting not working out."

Monarch nodded, rubbing his tired eyes under the mask.

"It's just her, Dr. Z and the old codger with two heads this time," he mumbled, "All focused on The Blue Morpho and how to kill him, I mean, how to kill ME."

He fell quiet as the weight of the situation really sank in for the first time. It was entirely possible that his dear wife would be the one to execute him.

"Hey," 21 said gently, coming to his side and laying a hand on his shoulder, "You know I won't EVER let that happen."

"I know," the older man murmured unconvincingly.

"C'mon, if I've managed to keep you alive through all that other crap, I THINK I can protect you from The Council!"

Monarch just nodded, and gave his bodyguard a small, grateful smile. But he was weary.

"I'm just so tired, 21," he said quietly, the weight of his life heavy on his bony shoulders.

The bigger man just nodded sympathetically, then tugged Monarch into his arms and hugged him.

"When did you get so 'huggy'?" Monarch mumbled, his face mushed into 21's shoulder.

"Sorry," 21 replied, but didn't loosen his arms, "You looked like you needed it."

Monarch just nodded, and brought his arms up loosely around his henchman's middle.

"I'm sorry, dude," 21 continued, squeezing the smaller man a little, "I wish I could fix it all for you."

They were silent for a minute, before Monarch stepped back, lifted his face and smiled at his henchman and best friend.

"Thanks, man," he said, "You DO make it easier."

The burly bodyguard returned the smile, then tugged Monarch's hat over his eyes again.

"Oh yeah, THAT'S not getting old at ALL," Monarch grumbled from under the brim.

"Ready to go home?" 21 laughed, shouldering the bag full of gear.

"Totally."

They turned and had just started up the path toward the concealed Morphomobile, when they heard a scream.

"What was that?" 21 demanded, drawing his dart gun and turning toward the sound.

"Come on!" Monarch ordered, breaking into a run.

"Would you SHUT UP, man?"

"She BIT me!"

The back of the slender man's bony hand struck Sirena hard across the cheek, and she was knocked to the ground, stunned. A moment later, he was straddling her, pressing a knife to her throat.

She froze.

"Listen, you little bitch, this is happening," he said, leaning down to sneer into her face, "I can cut your throat BEFORE the fun... or after."

Sirena just stared up at him, afraid to move, her violet-blue eyes wide and frightened.

"One more sound...," he snarled, teasingly stroking the tip of the blade down the bridge of her nose, "Do you understand me?"

She nodded, trembling, tears streaming from her eyes. He stabbed the knife into the ground beside her head, making her jump.

The man crossed her wrists above her head, and his burly accomplice pressed them to the cold ground. Then he moved down her body and began fumbling with her belt.

"Hurry up!" the larger attacker hissed.

Sirena closed her eyes, tears running into her hair. A cold, rough hand slid under her shirt, and she felt she would vomit.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

The man on top of her froze at the sound of a new, unknown, slightly-nasal voice.

"GET OFF OF HER!"

A moment later, her attacker was slammed sideways onto the ground by another shadowy figure.

The one holding her wrists scrambled up and ran off, pursued into the woods by a much heavier set of footsteps.

Sirena curled into a ball on the cold ground, wrapping her arms around her head as she listened to the battle between her attacker and the newcomer.

"YOU FILTHY... FUCKING... BASTARD!"

Each oath from the new voice was punctuated by the meaty sound of a fist hitting a face.

Then there were more running footsteps, fading into the woods.

She just lay there, shivering, in the fetal position. When footsteps approached her again, her heart began to pound. A hand suddenly touched her shoulder and she screamed, swatting and kicking.

"Whoa, easy!"

The hand returned to rub her back, gentle and comforting, and she slowly turned toward its owner.

A slender, masked man dressed all in blue was kneeling over her. The mask gave her pause for a moment, but the concern in his eyes eased her fear.

"Are you hurt?" he asked her anxiously.

Something inside her snapped and she scrambled up to fling her arms around him.

His body seemed to tense up, but only for a moment, and then his arms hesitantly enfolded her. Sirena pressed her face into his chest and burst into tears.

The stranger's arms tightened around her, and one hand slid up her back to stroke her hair. She melted into the strong, warm, comforting embrace, soaking his shirt with her tears, wishing she could feel this safe for the rest of her life.

"Shhh, it's OK," the man's voice breathed near her ear, "They're not gonna hurt you anymore, honey... shhh..."

She gripped his shirtfront with her fingers as she clung to him, nestling her head under his chin.

After a few long minutes, she regained some control. Her sobs turned to sniffles and she pulled back slightly to look up at him.

Some tough New York girl SHE was...

"Sorry," she said, wiping tears from her face, embarrassed by her display, "Shit."

"Nothing to be sorry for," he said softly, brushing her hair back from her face, picking a few leaves out of the messy brown tangle.

Now calmer, she took a moment to really look at her mysterious rescuer.

His hair, mostly hidden by a blue fedora, was deep red in color, and he wore a goatee. The rich color of his facial hair only made the paleness of his skin that much more noticeable. He looked as if he'd never spent a whole day in the sun.

A blue mask covered the top half of his angular face, framing large, dark, kind-looking eyes. His nose was considerably long and distinctly pointed, and his jawline looked sharp enough to slice a loaf of bread. She estimated him to be in his mid-to-late forties.

Her silent appraisal was interrupted by heavy footsteps running toward them, and she gave a startled gasp.

The masked man was instantly on the alert. He quickly pulled her against him and wrapped a protective arm around her, raising his weapon with his free hand.

"Boss?"

She felt him relax at the sound of the voice from the darkness.

"Over here!" he called.

He loosened his hold on Sirena and she sat back, looking up as a large man in a dark blue chauffeur's uniform came jogging up to them.

The newcomer had long brown hair in a ponytail, dark sideburns, and heavy five-o'clock shadow on his strong, square jaw. He wore a mask like his partner, and also had dark eyes.

"I darted them both," he said, breathing hard, "Left them zip-tied to a bench with a note for the cops."

"Well done, Kano," the slim man replied with a curt nod.

"Kano...," Sirena said, remembering her father's comments at dinner. She suddenly realized the identities of the masked strangers.

"You're The Blue Morpho!" she exclaimed, "The vigilante!"

The red-haired man shrugged a little, re-holstering his weapon inside his jacket. He got to his feet, then reached down and took her hand, helping her up.

"Now why would a nice girl like you," he said with a half-smile, "Know anything about me?"

"Pffft," Sirena scoffed, "My dad was talking about you last night," she explained.

"Who's your dad?" the one called Kano asked.

"Chester Ong," she said, "Oh, I'm Sirena Ong, hi!"

She offered her hand to shake.

The two masked men looked at each other, clearly uncomfortable.

"You're... Wide Wale's... daughter?" The Blue Morpho asked carefully, pointing at her.

"Yyyeah," she replied, pulling her hand back, confused by their reaction, "Why, did I do something wrong?"

"No, no," Kano assured her, "It's just... we're not exactly on Wide Wale's Christmas list, if you get my meaning."

"Oh, believe me, I know that," she replied, holding up a hand, "You should have heard him talking shit about you two."

"No kidding?" Morpho said, cocking an eyebrow at his partner.

"I dunno what you did," she went on, "But you definitely got HIS attention."

"Great," Kano muttered, holding a hand to his eyes.

"Hey, don't worry, I don't delude myself about what my father does for a living," she said, reaching out to lay a hand on each man's arm.

"If you're on HIS bad side, then I figure... you must be good guys."

"I am NOT a good guy," Morpho insisted, wagging a finger at her, "Do NOT get the wrong impression, Kano and I are vigilantes."

"That's right," Kano added, "DEFINITELY not good guys."

"Alright, if you insist," she said, smiling at them, "But after what you did for me, I'm gonna have trouble NOT thinking of you as good guys."

"Suit yourself," Kano mumbled with a shrug, "Oh, and it would be helpful if you didn't mention us to your dad."

"Wasn't planning to," Sirena replied, "He's enough of a friggin' psycho about my safety as it is."

"I can only imagine," Morpho said.

"But really," she continued, "Doncha think that maybe he'd be a little less hostile to you guys if he knew you saved my life?"

"I would NOT put money on that," Morpho said with a grimace, shaking his head a little, "For now, let's just get you home."

"OK," She acquiesced with a smile, "Not-good-guys."

They made their way out of the woods and stepped back out onto the illuminated path. Kano led the way, Morpho brought up the rear, keeping Sirena protectively between them.

"So what are you doing out here at this hour?" The Blue Morpho asked, as they walked along, "Not exactly a safe place on a Friday night."

She shrugged.

"That boat dock down by the lake, at the bottom of the hill," she pointed, "It's my favorite place. I go there a lot."

"Sounds lovely," Kano said, "But you shouldn't be alone here at night."

"Story of my life," she replied, sadly, "I got my dad's buttagots around me all the time. Only chance I have to be alone is when I sneak out."

That effectively killed the conversation, and they walked on in silence.

The breeze picked up and Sirena shivered, hugging herself. She heard a rustle of cloth behind her, and a moment later, The Blue Morpho's overcoat was draped around her shoulders.

"Thanks," she said, shyly, pulling it around her more tightly. It was wonderfully warm from his body heat.

"Eh," he replied, "I don't get to be chivalrous very often."

She chuckled softly.

Kano led them behind some bushes, and Sirena gasped at the sight of the gorgeous vintage blue Mercedes coupe waiting there.

"Whoa, nice ride!" she exclaimed, as Morpho lifted the gull-wing passenger door. She climbed in and ran her fingers over the beautiful red leather dash.

"Ma che bella... 1957, right?" she continued, "Where'd you get this?"

"My dad left it to me," Morpho said, climbing in next to her as she scooted over, sharing the passenger seat.

"That's... an oversimplification," Kano muttered as he climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine.

"Excuse me," Morpho said, reaching past her to push a red button on the dashboard.

There was a series of metallic noises, and then a whooshing sound. The entire car lurched, and Sirena clutched at Morpho's arm.

"HEY!" she exclaimed, as the vehicle rose straight up into the air, "What's happening?"

"It's totally safe," Morpho reassured her, "Just relax."

"Uhh, should you close the door, maybe?" she asked, pointing as the ground shrank away.

"The doors have to be open for flight mode," Kano said, expertly handling the controls.

"FLIGHT mode?" she gaped, "You're shittin' me..."

Morpho just chuckled.

"Tophet Tower, right?" Kano asked, glancing over at her.

"Yeah," she said, "I'll show you where to drop me so we won't be seen."

"Excellent," Morpho said, nodding. Then he turned to Kano.

"Hand me your gun, dude," he said, "I'll reload it."

The chauffeur pulled his weapon from his belt and passed it across Sirena, into Morpho's hand.

She watched as he opened the glove box, revealing a clear plastic tray full of what looked like little blue throwing darts.

"Dart gun?" she asked, watching as he loaded them into the weapon. His long fingers were surprisingly dexterous, even with the gloves.

"Sleeping darts," he said with a nod, "The Blue Morpho and Kano have a no-kill policy."

"Wow, really?" Sirena said, incredulously, "So you never kill?"

"Uhhh, well," Kano muttered uneasily, "Accidents happen, but our INTENTION is to be non-lethal."

"Some quote about the Road to Hell would be appropriate right now," Morpho quipped as he continued fiddling with the gun.

The car suddenly gave a small downward dip, and one of the darts slipped out of his hand to land between he and Sirena.

"I got it," Sirena said, reaching for it.

"NO, DON'T...!"

But his warning came too late. As Sirena reached for the dart, the ultra-sharp point accidentally pierced her finger, and she slumped against The Blue Morpho, instantly unconscious.

"Well, fuck..."

"What happened?" 21 asked anxiously, glancing over as Monarch tossed a dart out the open door.

"Hey. Hey! Miss Ong?" Monarch shook the insensate girl by the shoulder. Her head lolled back and forth on her neck. She was out like a light.

"Is she OK?" 21 asked, looking over in concern, "What's going on?"

"Jabbed herself with one of the darts," Monarch replied, "Poor kid."

He took the girl's chin in his hand and leaned close, listening to her breathing, then pressed his fingers to her neck, checking her pulse. Next he lifted her hand and examined the tiny drop of blood on her fingertip.

"Just barely scratched herself," he said, "She should only be out for a couple of hours, tops."

"We can't wait, we've gotta get her home," 21 exclaimed, "The sun'll be up soon."

"She's not a vampire, dude," Monarch said, shaking his head.

"OK, first of all, you don't KNOW that," his henchman began, raising a finger.

Monarch rolled his eyes.

"And second of all," 21 continued, "The Blue Morpho can't exactly show up in the middle of the morning rush with the daughter of the most notorious super-villain on the East Coast!"

"Yeahhh, I see what you mean," Monarch conceded, nodding a little. He adjusted the girl to settle against him more comfortably, wrapping his arm around her.

21 piloted the Morphojet over the sleeping city, heading in the direction of Tophet Tower, and soon the tall, black skyscraper came into view.

Sirena was still unconscious, still wrapped in Monarch's coat, her head pillowed on his shoulder.

"Well THIS certainly presents a challenge," the red-haired man muttered.

"Ya think?" 21 mumbled, sarcastically.

"So," Monarch went on, "Do I just take the elevator up to the penthouse and hand Wide Wale his daughter?"

"I don't think that would be the BEST tactic," 21 replied, as the jet descended toward the small circular park in the middle of the rotary in front of Tophet Tower.

"Well I'm open to suggestions," Monarch said, gesturing with a gloved hand.

21 thought about it for a minute. He set the jet down, but kept the engine running.

"Could you just leave her in the lobby?" he suggested, "Sneak in, sneak out. It's a well-guarded building, she'll be safe."

"I LIKE that plan," Monarch said, nodding, pointing at his partner.

He climbed out of the car, then reached in to gather the limp girl into his arms. She moaned slightly, nestling against the warmth of his body as he lifted her out of the vehicle.

"Be ready for a hasty exit," he whispered to 21, "Just in case."

"I'm ready," his henchman replied.

Monarch crossed the deserted traffic rotary, eyes and ears peeled for Wide Wale's henchmen. Luck was with him, and there was no sign of anyone.

He paused at the doors of the building, looking inside for a doorman or guard, but the lobby was empty.

Carefully maneuvering through the revolving door, he crept silently into the brightly-lit, expensively-decorated lobby. He spied a soft-looking couch near the elevators, and crossed to it.

Sirena never stirred as he gently lay her down and carefully extracted his overcoat from around her. He shrugged into his coat, not noticing as one of the Blue Morpho throwing stars slipped from its holder in the lining to 'plink' to the floor beside the couch.

He paused for a moment to brush the girl's hair back from her face, the hint of a smile on his lips. More than likely, their paths would never cross again.

"Take care, Miss Ong," he whispered, before turning and running for the door.

A few seconds later, Nelson the doorman came out of the office behind the desk with a cup of coffee. The sound of the revolving door got his attention, and he set his cup down and started across the lobby, curious.

In the pre-dawn light, he could just make out a shadowy figure dressed all in blue running across the traffic circle toward the memorial park. Nelson jogged to the door and peered out, just in time to see a blue Mercedes with gull-wing doors rise straight up from the park and blast into the sky.

"What the HELL?"

He gave a quick look around the lobby and caught sight of Sirena on the couch.

"Geez, what is she doing down here at THIS hour?"

Her father, Chester Ong, was extremely protective of his little girl. For her to be out of her penthouse, all alone, at this time of night was unheard of. Something wasn't right.

Nelson crossed the lobby to stand over Sirena. Her faced was bruised where someone had struck her. Her clothes were dirty and disheveled, the clasp on her belt broken. There were leaves, twigs and dirt in her hair. She'd clearly been attacked.

As he stepped closer, something clinked under his boot. He reached down to pick up a palm-sized, flat metal object in the shape of a blue butterfly. It had sharp points and edges, and he handled it carefully.

He reached down and gently shook the girl's shoulder, trying to wake her. When he realized that she was not asleep, but unconscious, he snatched his cell phone from his pocket and hit the speed dial for Chester Ong.

"Nelson? Why are you calling me at this hour?" Ong's voice sounded sleepy and irritated over the phone.

"Mr. Ong," he said, "Come down to the lobby right away! It's Sirena..."

Wide Wale and Rocco hovered just outside Sirena's bedroom door, pacing, waiting, worrying. The family doctor, Levitt, was inside with her. The valet, Badhul stood by with a tray holding two untouched cups of coffee.

When the three men had charged out of the elevator into the lobby, the sight of his sweet child, battered and filthy, had filled Wale with a hot, red rage. Badhul had called the doctor, and Rocco had carried Sirena back up to the penthouse.

"She's gonna be OK, boss," Rocco said reassuringly, as they paced past one another again, "She's a tough kid."

"Dr. Levitt is most competent, sir," Badhul added kindly.

The huge man just nodded, studying the throwing star that Nelson had found near his daughter. The doorman also told him of the unique vehicle he'd witnessed leaving the scene.

"The Blue Morpho left this with her on purpose," he growled, holding up the weapon, "He wanted me to know exactly who it was that hurt her."

"Monster," Badhul muttered under his breath with a small shake of his head.

"We'll get him," Rocco said, slamming his fist into his opposite hand, "Count on it."

The door to the bedroom opened, and Dr. Levitt emerged. He held up a hand as the three men came rushing to him.

"She's going to be fine," he said quickly, "She's awake now, and coherent."

"What happened?" Rocco demanded.

Dr. Levitt looked nervously from the henchman and Badhul to Wide Wale, and the huge super-villain waved at him to continue.

"It's fine, they're like family, you can talk in front of them."

"Well," Levitt went on, adjusting his glasses, "Your doorman was right, she WAS attacked. The good news is, it doesn't look like her attacker did much, aside from roughing her up."

"You mean...?" Badhul began.

"There was no sexual assault," the doctor said with a comforting smile, "I'm sure that was the assailant's intention, but he didn't succeed."

Wide Wale, Badhul and Rocco all breathed sighs of relief.

"Why was she unconscious?" Rocco demanded.

"Well," the doctor said, "I did a quick drug screen, and her system shows trace amounts of barbiturates..."

"Miss Ong does not use drugs," Badhul interjected angrily, "She is a good girl."

"Of course not," the doctor went on quickly, "This class of barbiturates is most commonly used in tranquilizer darts."

There was dead silence.

"Are you telling me that someone not only tried to rape my child... but he also DRUGGED her?" Wale growled.

Levitt just spread his hands with a shrug.

"We should probably ask HER what happened," he said softly, "But given the evidence, that does seem a likely scenario."

Wale put his hand up to his eyes, turning away from Rocco and the doctor, trying to get control of himself. Badhul moved closer to him in concern, but the big man waved him away.

The super-villain took a deep breath and turned to Levitt again, coming forward to shake his hand.

"Thank you for your help, Doctor," he said quietly, "And thank you for coming out at this hour, you'll be generously compensated."

Levitt nodded sagely.

"Can I see her?" Wale asked, gesturing toward the bedroom door.

"Sure," Levitt said, "But I would keep it short, she needs to rest."

Sirena lay nestled in the mounds of pillows and down comforter on her bed, blinking sleepily. Her face was still sore where her attacker had hit her, and she badly needed to wash the debris out of her hair. But for now she just lay there, relishing the warm, safe cocoon of blankets.

She remembered everything that had happened that evening. Well, right up to the bonehead moment she'd stuck her finger with The Blue Morpho's sleeping dart. After that, the next thing she recalled was Dr. Levitt leaning over her.

There was suddenly a soft knock at the door.

"Who is it?" she called. She didn't want to see Rocco.

"It's Daddy," came her father's deep voice, "Can I come in, Tadpole?"

She closed her eyes with a grimace. Now she was going to have to explain why she was out in the middle of the night without permission. Oh well, may as well get it over with.

"Come in!" she called.

The enormous man that she called "Dad" came hesitantly into the room, and his grayish face brightened into a smile when he saw her. In spite of everything, she smiled back at him.

He came slowly across the room, and sat down on the edge of her bed, the entire structure creaking under his massive weight. He reached down and softly brushed the back of his webbed hand across her cheek, over the new bruise.

"How are you feeling?" he asked her, his voice uncharacteristically soft and tender.

"I'm OK," she said, reaching out to hold his hand, her tiny fingers lost in his great flipper, "I'm really tired."

"I won't stay long," he said, "I just... I really needed to see you."

His voice sounded strangely tight, and she could see the hint of tears in his cold, gray eyes. It made a lump form in her throat. The only time she ever saw him show emotion like this was when he spoke of her mother.

"Daddy, I'm sorry I snuck out," she began quietly.

He shook his head.

"We don't need to talk about that right now," he said, gently stroking her forehead, "I just was hoping you could tell me what happened?"

"Well," she began, remembering Kano's request that she not reveal the details of the evening.

"I was in the park," she said, "And a couple of guys grabbed me and dragged me into the woods."

She broke off with a shiver as the memory of her assault came back to her.

"Who was it?" he coaxed gently, "Did you recognize them?"

Sirena looked at him curiously, wondering why he chose to focus upon that detail.

"There was a big guy who just held me down," she said, "The guy who... the other guy, he was tall and skinny. That's about all I can say for sure, it was dark."

He was silent, but she could see a steely, cold rage building up in his eyes, and she shrunk slightly into the pillows.

"Are you upset with me?" she asked timidly.

His face instantly lost its anger, and he smiled gently at her.

"No, baby, no, of course not," he assured her, leaning down to kiss her brow.

"Do you remember anything else?" he continued, "How you got home, anything like that?"

She stared at him for a long time. He was probing her. But why?

"I don't remember," she lied, "I think I passed out during the attack."

He looked at her for a long time, and she felt her heart start to pound. Did he know she was lying?

"OK, honey," he said at last, "You get to sleep, now, and we'll talk more tomorrow."

He crossed the room, turned out the light, and closed the door behind him.

Sirena watched him go, feeling strangely uneasy about lying to him. She turned on her side and snuggled down into her bed, and fell asleep.

Rocco looked up as Wide Wale came out of the bedroom.

"The Blue Morpho assaulted my little girl," Wide Wale said quietly, his face red with rage, "I want him DEAD!"

After the long, eventful night, both Monarch and 21 slept in, and it was well past noon before either of them stirred. 21 was up first, as per usual, and was bustling around the kitchen in shorts and a t-shirt when his boss and best friend wandered sleepily into the room in his maroon bathrobe to sit at the table .

"Morning!" the stocky henchman chirped as he switched off the burbling coffee maker and checked the eggs frying on the stove.

"Afternoon," corrected Monarch with a yawn as he glanced at the wall clock, "Damn, dude, why did you let me sleep so late?"

21 chuckled as he retrieved two mugs from the shelf and set them on the counter beside the coffee maker. Two pieces of toast popped up in the toaster, and he moved them to a plate, and then set it in front of Monarch next to a bottle of Texas Pete.

"I only woke up about twenty minutes ago, myself," the younger man explained. He poured two mugs of coffee and brought them to the table, placing one into Monarch's eager hands.

"We are a pair of lazy bums," the red-haired man mumbled amidst slurps of coffee.

"Hey we were up until DAWN!" 21 countered, "We had a long night of protecting the innocent citizens of New York, remember?"

He moved to the stove and turned it off, sliding the eggs from the pan onto his plate before returning to the table.

"Right," Monarch said with a nod as he doused his toast with hot sauce, rolled it up like a burrito and bit it in half.

"That is SO gross," 21 muttered as he cut up his eggs, "How can you eat that right after waking up?"

"You have to chomp it down fast before the bread dissolves," Monarch muttered with his mouth full.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," 21 replied with his mouth full.

"BLAHH!" Monarch replied, opening his mouth full of chewed toast.

21 burst out laughing, coughing and spraying egg out of his mouth, as reached for a napkin.

"Well now THAT'S gross," Monarch said, grinning.

"I just got egg up my NOSE you asshole!" 21 sputtered, turning away from the table to blow his nose, "Such a fucking CHILD sometimes..."

Once breakfast and the accompanying festivities were concluded, the two men headed down to the Morpho Cave. 21 went to inspect their weapons and to check their costumes for weak spots in the protective Kevlar. Monarch went and sat at the Crime Computer and brought up the website for The Guild of Calamitous Intent.

The large picture of Wide Wale on the homepage caught his eye, and he clicked on it. It brought up another screen with info about the super-villain, along with photos of his main guards, and one of Sirena.

He studied the screen for a moment, and then clicked on Sirena's picture, enlarging it. The photo seemed to be a professional school portrait of some sort, taken fairly recently. Monarch sat back, folded his arms, and propped his feet up on the desk.

"Wow, I can't believe I didn't recognize her last night," he called across to 21, "I've seen her picture on here a dozen times."

"Who?" his henchman called back as he closed up the costume pods.

"Kim Kardashian," Monarch replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes, then gesturing at the screen with both hands, "Sirena Ong! Wide Wale's kid."

"Oh, right," 21 replied, coming to stand at his boss's side and swatting the older man's feet off the desk.

"Think she's OK?" Monarch asked, rubbing at one of his long eyebrows, "After last night, I mean?"

"Uh-oh," his henchman teased, "Is The Mighty Monarch developing a soft spot for damsels in distress?"

"Please," the older man sneered, "Miss Ong is about as un-damsel-y as a female can get."

"True," 21 agreed, smiling, "She was a pistol."

"I just," Monarch continued, "I feel a little bad about how we just went off and left her in the lobby."

"Couldn't be helped," his partner said, patting him on the shoulder, and then motioning for him to vacate the chair. Monarch got up and 21 took his place at the computer.

"We had to stay out of sight, Wide Wale could NOT know we had anything to do with what happened."

The older man nodded, and moved to stand at his henchman's shoulder, deep in thought.

"Oh, you're missing a throwing star, by the way," 21 said, "I assume you left it stuck in a bad guy last night?"

Monarch just looked at him.

"What have I told you, dude?" the younger man continued, tapping the desk for emphasis, "Always, always, ALWAYS pick those things up. We don't have many to begin with, and I don't know how to get more."

"I didn't use a throwing star last night."

21 turned and stared at him.

"Yes you did."

"No," Monarch insisted, shaking his head, "I DIDN'T."

The henchman got up and moved to The Blue Morpho costume pod, and opened it. He counted the throwing stars mounted neatly on the lining of the pod, and pointed to the empty spot.

"Then where the fuck IS it?" he asked, spreading his hands, "We had them all yesterday."

"Still in the coat, maybe?" Monarch moved past him and took The Blue Morpho overcoat from its holder, and opened it.

21 inspected the inside lining where Monarch usually stowed his weaponry. There were two small elastic straps on either lapel, space to carry four throwing stars.

"Uh-oh," the stocky man said, pointing.

"What?" Monarch leaned closer.

One of the straps had frayed and come loose from the lining at one end.

"It must have dropped out in the park somewhere," 21 muttered as he took the coat and hung it back up, "Sorry, dude."

Monarch shrugged and followed his bodyguard back to the computer. As they approached, there was a loud BEEP, and a small icon began blinking in the lower corner of the screen.

"Huh?" 21 said quizzically, "There's been a new villain added to Wide Wale's Fiends and Family plan, that's weird."

"Not when you consider how many you and I have knocked off the plan with our NON-LETHAL methods of elimination," Monarch said snidely.

"Oh dude, shut up," 21 muttered, shaking his head.

He punched a couple of keys, and the bio of the new villain popped up on the big screen.

"Ha cha!" Monarch said raising a fist, "Fresh meat!"

"Bring it down a little, Freddy Krueger," 21 chuckled.

"Anton Scyther," Monarch read, "The Scythe. Level 10, new to the city, just set up shop in the warehouse district."

"Oh man, check this guy out," 21 said, enlarging the photo of the new antagonist.

The Scythe was about six and a half feet tall, and dressed in a long, black hooded robe. Red, fiery, glowing eyes were all that could be seen of his face, and he carried a curved blade with a long handle, just like Death.

"Looks like he came up with his theme at the Halloween outlet store," Monarch scoffed, "Seriously, this tool is a level 10?"

"I guess it pays to be friends with Wide Wale," 21 said with a shrug, "Or maybe he just paid off The Guild, bought his EMA level like Augustus St. Cloud."

"Who?" Monarch asked.

"Exactly," the other man laughed.

"Ooh, there's an address for his lair," Monarch said, leaning closer to the screen, a toothy smile spreading across his face as he looked sideways at his partner, "Wanna go fuck it up?"

"Uhhh," 21 cringed, "Remember the Doom Factory? Let's just go and do some surveillance, first. Please?"

"Nghh," Monarch whined, rolling his eyes.

"And we are NOT bringing explosives!" 21 said pointedly.

"Fiiine," the older man relented.

"Thank you," his henchman said with a relieved smile.

"TONIGHT!" Monarch crowed, pumping his fist in the air.

Wide Wale sat back in his chair with a satisfied smile. The fake super-villain profile had been successfully added to the Guild's computer database.

"So that's it?" Rocco asked, looking over his boss's shoulder at the computer screen, "The Scythe?"

Wale nodded.

"You sure this will draw out The Blue Morpho?" Rocco asked, stepping back as the huge man got to his feet.

"He's been consistently going after the folks on my Fiends and Family plan," the super-villain replied, "And The Scythe is what you might call 'low-hanging fruit.' An easy target."

Rocco nodded, impressed.

"You really got a knack for this, boss," he said, "It's inspiring."

Wale chuckled, patting his main henchman on the shoulder.

"I been at this for a long time, Roc," he said, "And one thing I've learned, is when you want to trap even the craftiest of rats, all you need is the right bait."

"I'll get the guys together and head out," Rocco growled, turning and starting for the door.

"Hey, Roc!' Wale called.

"Sir?"

"Don't kill him," the super-villain growled, "Just bring him here."

Rocco smiled, and cracked his knuckles.

Later that evening, The Morphojet glided in over the warehouse district, circled for a minute, and then set down on the roof of one of the large, seemingly-abandoned buildings.

"Are you sure this is the address?" Monarch asked as he and 21 climbed out of the car, "Doesn't look like much of a lair to me."

21 pulled out his phone and re-read the info on The Scythe from the Guild of Calamitous Intent website. He scrolled along until he found the address, and nodded.

"Yeah, this is it," he said, "Maybe it's nicer on the inside? Or maybe the actual lair is in the basement or something?"

The two men drew their dart guns and headed for the door at east corner of the building. Monarch hung back as 21 opened the door and checked the stairwell.

"It's clear," the henchman said, pulling out his flashlight and starting down the stairs.

Once the two men descended to the top floor of the building, the multitude of security lighting outside shone in through the broken-out windows and allowed them to see. 21 put away the flashlight, and he and Monarch made a sweep of the floor.

"Still no sign that anyone has even been IN this building in years," Monarch said, shaking his head, "Let alone that a level 10 villain has his lair, here."

"Well," 21 said, "Remember Redusa? Her place was a dumpy little house, but she was legit."

"Right," Monarch agreed.

They made their way to the far side of the building, guns still drawn, ready for anything.

"How many floors does this building have?" Monarch asked.

"I dunno. Five?"

"Hmm," the older man said, thinking, "Let's head down to the next floor, anyway."

They crossed to the stairwell and descended to the second-from-top floor, where Monarch held up a hand.

"OK, you check out this floor, and then go down to the next one, and check THAT one," he ordered, pointing.

"What are YOU going to be doing?" 21 asked curiously.

"I'm going to the ground floor and working my way UP," he replied, "We can cover twice as much area in half the time if we split up."

"Ohhhh dude," 21 said, shaking his head, "I don't know if I like that idea."

"We're just doing reconnaissance, man, observation," Monarch said, spreading his hands in a placating way, "We'll meet back here at this stairwell in 15 minutes, OK?"

21 still looked uneasy.

"What if you run into The Scythe?" the younger man asked.

"Look," Monarch said, "I won't engage anyone. If I see anything, I'll come straight back up and get you, OK?"

"Just be careful," the henchman begged, "Please?"

"C'mon," the older man scoffed, grinning, "It's ME."

He turned and disappeared down the stairs. 21 leaned heavily against the wall.

"No shit, dude," he said, "That's what worries me."

He shook off the unproductive line of thought and focused on his mission, starting down the empty hallway.

Monarch reached the ground floor and began his sweep. He crept through the dimly-lit corridor, listening intently, his dart gun drawn.

It was easy to understand why his bodyguard was uncomfortable about this mission. Even HE had to admit that everything about this Scythe guy was odd. A level 10 super-villain that neither he nor 21 had heard of?

Monarch knew he wasn't exactly up on current events with the membership of the Guild, but top-level arches didn't usually just pop out of the woodwork like this...

He had to wonder if Red Death was familiar with this new guy. The Scythe was basically a cheap knock-off of the older super-villain. Though Scythe's file said nothing about a flying horse, so Red Death had him beat out in terms of transportation, at least.

He turned a corner, and immediately ducked back out of sight again. He'd just barely caught a glimpse of a tall, dark figure standing in the corridor ahead. It was the first sign of activity he'd seen since arriving at the facility, aside from rats the size of Pomeranians.

Monarch hesitated, remembering his promise to fetch 21 if he found anything. He checked his watch and saw he was due at the east corner stairwell in five minutes to meet his partner.

Very slowly, he poked his head around the corner, ready to dive to the floor at the first sound. The black figure was still there. Monarch squinted, trying to detect any movement whatsoever, but there was none.

Curious, he knelt down and picked up a broken piece of concrete, took careful aim, and pegged it at the figure's hooded head. He watched it bounce off, and he tensed, raising his gun. But there was no response. Silently, he moved forward, hugging the wall like a shadow, moving closer to the figure.

When he was barely 10 steps away from the towering black form, he fired a sleeping dart at it. The dart hit its mark, but the figure still remained unmoving. He fired another. Same result.

Weird.

Monarch coughed loudly, still holding the gun at the ready. No response, not even a twitch.

Feeling bolder, he crossed the space between himself and the figure, passing by several darkened doorways in the wall behind him. As he came to stand beside the black-shrouded form, it suddenly shifted and fell toward him.

He muffled a yelp and leaped backwards, emptying his dart gun into it as it dropped solidly to the floor. When there was no further activity, he moved cautiously forward to get a closer look at the thing.

It was The Scythe, the tall, robed figure from the picture on the website. But it was fake. It was the sort of thing you'd buy at Halloween to decorate your porch, a statue of Death made of Styrofoam and fabric. The red glowing eyes were battery-powered electric bulbs, and the scythe it carried was cheap plastic.

Monarch knelt, shaking his head and chuckling at himself as he tapped on the cheap Styrofoam body of the thing. He re-holstered his empty gun, knowing that he would receive no small amount of scolding from 21 for wasting so many darts.

As he got to his feet, several thoughts flooded into his mind at once. Why had someone gone to the trouble of setting up this fake super-villain?

The answer followed swiftly... Because he had just been lured into a trap.

When he heard movement behind him, he also realized that he'd just passed by a number of darkened doorways without checking them...

Before he could turn, a hand clamped over his mouth and a powerful arm wrapped around his midsection. He struggled briefly, but whoever it was holding him was very big and much stronger than he was.

Two more tall figures in suits came to stand before him, one of them brandishing something that resembled a harpoon, and his heart sank into his shoes.

"Aw, shit," Monarch muttered behind the hand muffling him. WHEN was he going to learn to listen to 21...?

The tip of the harpoon was pressed to his chest, and a powerful electric shock went through his body. There was low, ominous laughter in the encroaching darkness, and Monarch had a moment to realize he was in great danger... before everything went black.

"Dude? PSST! You here?"

21 called out in a stage whisper as he wandered around the east corner stairwell. This was the agreed-upon rendezvous point, but Monarch was nowhere to be found.

In his sweep of the warehouse, 21 had found nothing of interest. A few derelict forklifts, evidence of squatters having been in residence some time ago, but definitely nothing to indicate that this creepy place was the lair of a Level 10 super-villain.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized how much was wrong about this whole situation. And now the cherry on the suck sundae... Monarch had apparently disappeared.

"C'mon dude, where ARE you?" he breathed, giving one more look around.

On a whim, he reached into his gear bag and pulled out the distress beacon receiver. He switched it on, hoping to see Monarch's little 'M' blinking on the screen, but no, nothing. Wherever Monarch was, he hadn't activated his beacon.

He tried to tell himself that naturally this meant Monarch wasn't in trouble. Except that the other man was now more than five minutes late for their scheduled rendezvous.

And Monarch was ALWAYS in trouble.

Suddenly, he heard a car engine start up outside, and he ran to the nearest busted-out window to stick his head out.

Down below, a limousine idled, and a trio of well-dressed men were crossing the parking lot towards it. 21 didn't recognize them, or the car.

But he definitely recognized the limp, blue-clad figure they carried!

"HEY!" he bellowed down, "STOP!"

One of the men turned toward the sound of his voice, and raised a gun. 21 flung himself back from the window as a bullet ricocheted off the metal frame right where his head had been a moment ago.

He bolted for the stairs and charged up them, heading for the roof where the Morphojet waited. As he ran, he tried to commit to memory any details he'd gleaned of the car. Black. Big. Expensive.

But there were thousands of limousines in the city.

Bursting through the door onto the roof, he rushed to the railing and looked down, just in time to watch the limo exit the lot and vanish down the street.

"SHIT!"

He ran to the Mercedes, flung himself into the driver's seat and started it up. He engaged the flight mode and gunned the engine, blasting into the sky, giving chase.

"I SAID I was sorry!" Sirena said, raising her voice, "I only snuck out in the first place because you won't give me any friggin' SLACK, dad!"

It was early evening, and Sirena was having the dreaded discussion with her father about how she had left her penthouse without permission the night before.

"I have told you over and over, Sirena," her father said, "This city is NOT safe. And you found that out for yourself last night, didn't you?"

She just folded her arms and scowled, not wanting to look at him. He crossed the living room and sat beside her on the couch, laying his big hand on her shoulder.

"Honey, why can't you understand?" he said quietly, "I don't keep track of you because I don't trust YOU, I do it because I don't trust anyone ELSE."

"But I just...," she began.

"You are the most important thing in the world to me, tadpole," he continued, "I love you more than my own life, and if anything ever happened to you, I don't think I could take it. Not after losing your mother."

He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close to him, kissing the top of her head.

"I know you didn't choose this life," he went on, "But this is who I am, I'm a super-villain, and you're my daughter. And people like The Blue Morpho will want to hurt you, just because of who I am."

She stood up and turned to stare at him.

"What do you mean, The Blue Morpho? What does he have to do with this?"

She tried to keep her voice from shaking, wondering if she'd said or done something to reveal the truth of the incident in the park. She had made sure NOT to mention the masked vigilante...

"Sweetheart, none of what happened was your fault, let me just make that clear," her father said, "But I know what really happened last night."

She felt her face go pale, and had to sit down again. As she watched, her father reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, flat metal object and held it up.

"See this?" he said.

She studied the object. It looked like a Ninja throwing star, but it was in the shape of a stylized blue butterfly; the logo of The Blue Morpho.

"Where did you get that?" she breathed.

"That bastard left it with you when he dumped you in the lobby," her father murmured quietly, "So that I would know that HE was the one who hurt you."

"WHAT?!" Sirena exclaimed, surging to her feet and staring at him in disbelief, "What are you talking about? The Blue Morpho didn't attack me, he was the one who SAVED me!"

"Tadpole," Wide Wale said softly, "The Blue Morpho is a vigilante, he hates people like us."

"Why won't you listen to me?" Sirena shouted, pounding her fist on the end table, making the lamp there wobble.

"The doctor said you had trace amounts of anesthetic in your system," her father continued, "That masked monster drugged you, and it sounds like it messed with your memory."

"Uh, NO, actually I drugged MYSELF," she retorted, "And it was just a stupid accident."

"He took advantage of you," Wale continued, as if she hadn't spoken.

"He didn't lay a finger on me!" she insisted, "Except to HOLD me when I was fucking freaked out about almost being RAPED!"

"Sirena, you don't understand," Wale went on, gently, "People like him, they don't see me as a person, they see me as a disease to be eradicated. And since you're my child, he sees you the same way."

"That's not TRUE!" she cried, "Dad, you can't just believe all the things your fellow criminals tell you!"

"That man has murdered a dozen villains since he came on the scene," Wale continued, anger beginning to creep into his voice, "And you're the daughter of a super-villain. Do the math."

"Goddammit, he saved my LIFE!"

Rocco came in then, and hesitated when he saw Sirena.

"You need something, Roc?" Wide Wale said, turning his attention to the large henchman.

"Uhh," Rocco began, looking uneasily at Sirena.

Wide Wale picked up on his hesitation and leaned down to kiss his daughter on the top of her head.

"Sweetie, we'll talk more about this tomorrow, OK?" he said, giving her a little smile, "Daddy's got some work to do, so you run off to bed, now."

Giving a noise of disgust, Sirena stood and stomped toward the door.

"Off to bed... story of my fucking LIFE," she muttered under her breath.

"I love you," Wide Wale called after her.

"Whatever." She stormed out of the room, banging the door behind her.

After she was gone, Wide Wale turned to his head henchman with a smile.

"Well?" he said expectantly.

Rocco smiled a truly horrible smile.

"We got him."

"Nice work, Rocco," Wale said, "Where is he?"

"Down in the basement. DiNorio and Bianchi are guarding him."

"That dirty little motherfucker," Wale muttered, shaking his head slightly, "He figured he couldn't get to me, so he went after my baby girl."

Rocco just nodded, clenching his jaw.

"He denies it, of course," the henchman said, "Gave us some bullshit story about fighting off a couple of guys, like HE was the big hero."

"Typical," Wale shook his head.

"We haven't worked him over just yet, Mr. Wale," Rocco said, "Thought we'd give you the first go."

"Ah, that's thoughtful of you, Roc," Wide Wale said, "But I need to keep my hands clean on this one."

The huge man looked toward the door through which his daughter had disappeared, and shook his head sadly.

"Sirena's...confused... But she won't ever forgive me if she finds out."

"Understood," Rocco said, "You want us to just dump him, then?"

"That would be best," Wale replied, "Quick, clean, no mess. Just make sure he's never found."

"I'm on it, boss" Rocco said, turning and leaving the room.

As he walked to the elevator, Rocco pulled out his cellphone.

Unseen, behind him, Sirena poked her head out from behind one of the many large aquariums that decorated the penthouse. She watched as Rocco dialed his phone and held it to his ear.

His hesitation... that reluctance to speak to her father in front of her, it made her suspicious.

"Yeah, Dee," Rocco said, "Wale wants us to take out the trash."

Sirena listened intently.

"No, we gotta keep it quiet," Rocco continued, talking into the phone, "Yeah, the lake would be fine... As long as he isn't found."

She felt her heart start to pound.

"Wale's right, the last thing The Council needs is a media shitstorm about the death of The Blue Morpho."

Sirena's hands flew to her mouth to stifle her gasp.

The expensive Cadillac looked out of place near the boat dock at Central Park. The gravel leading down to the launch ramp crunched under the expensive tires as it came to a halt.

Rocco climbed out from behind the driver's seat and looked around. The area was deserted. He smiled, and motioned for his two fellow henchmen to join him.

They moved around to the rear of the vehicle. Rocco opened the trunk, and he and DiNorio lifted out a heavy anchor, setting it down against the bumper. Next they hauled out The Blue Morpho, gagged and wrapped in chains, one end of which was attached to the anchor.

"You guys take the anchor, I'll bring the garbage," Bianchi chuckled.

The henchman hefted the bound vigilante with ease, carrying him over his shoulder like a roll of carpet.

The trio moved down to the lake, and walked out to the end of the boat dock.

"Yo, Dee, how deep is it here?" Rocco asked, looking down into the water.

"About twelve feet, maybe fifteen," DiNorio replied.

"Perfect. Let's get this over with. Damn anchor ain't doing my back any good."

Rocco gestured to Bianchi.

"Set him down here a second, Bee," he said.

Bianchi set The Blue Morpho on his feet and held him from behind with one massive arm across his chest.

Rocco smiled at their prisoner, leaning down to address him at eye level.

"You should probably consider yourself lucky, Mr. Morpho," he said, "This ain't really that bad a way to go."

The masked man tried to break free of Bianchi's grip, shouting through the gag.

"You'll black out in, ohh, about a minute or two," Rocco continued, "And then you won't feel a thing."

He punctuated his comment with a vicious right hook to the restrained man's face, knocking his hat off. Then he took the dazed crime fighter's hair in his hand and snarled into his face.

"See if it was up to me, you'd suffer a LOT longer for what you did to that precious girl."

He motioned to DiNorio, and together they dragged the anchor to the edge of the dock. Bianchi hefted the vigilante under one arm and followed.

"Be ready to let him go the second we toss the anchor, Bee. I don't wanna have to jump in and save your ass," Rocco teased.

"I'm ready," the huge henchman said calmly as The Blue Morpho kicked and struggled furiously in his grasp, shouting incoherently behind the gag.

"On three?" Rocco said.

"Right," said DiNorio.

"One, two, THREE!"

They tossed the anchor off the dock, and Bianchi let go as the masked man was yanked in after it, vanishing under the black surface of the lake.

"That was easy," Rocco said, stretching his back, "Let's go home and tell the boss it's taken care of."

They walked back up the dock, got back into the car and drove off.

The moment they were gone, Sirena ran out of the woods.

She'd paid a taxicab driver 300 dollars in cash to discretely tail Rocco's car from Tophet Tower, and the man did not disappoint. They had followed the henchman's vehicle into Central Park.

When she'd seen Rocco's Cadillac turn down the access road to the boat dock, her heart had sank into her shoes. She knew what was about to happen to the masked man who had saved her life the night before.

At that point, she had dismissed the taxi and followed on foot, keeping out of sight amidst the trees.

She'd watched from the shadows as Rocco and the others dragged Mr. Morpho from the trunk of the car. She'd watched them throw the falsely-accused vigilante into the lake, and it was all she could do to stay put until they drove away. If they saw her, all her efforts would be for nothing.

Now she ran out of the woods and out onto the dock, stripping off her coat and kicking her shoes off, mentally counting off how many seconds the masked man had been submerged. She reached the end of the dock and dove in, praying she wasn't already too late.

He was going to die.

All those worries about being shot by his wife, and now he was going to die right here, right now, with his lungs full of water.

Right before he broke the surface of the lake, Monarch had managed to take in a great lungful of air. But he'd been under for nearly a minute and a half, and his whole body felt like it was on fire.

His struggles to break free of the chains around his torso had only made him use up his oxygen that much faster. The heavy anchor attached to the chain ensured that he couldn't even move himself into shallower water.

Part of his mind told him to just give up. Breathe the water in, and it would be over. The agony, the terror, it would all stop.

Black splotches were appearing at the edges of his vision, and he felt his mind beginning to shut down. He closed his eyes and prepared to die.

A sudden splash from above jolted him, and he looked up.

There was an Angel floating down to him. An honest-to-goodness Angel, coming down to escort him up to Heaven.

It would seem that Heaven didn't keep a very good file on The Mighty Monarch...

She came to him, her lovely brown hair swirling in a halo around her face. Her soft, tender hands pulled loose his gag and cradled his face, and soft lips met his in a kiss.

He closed his eyes and gave himself over to her, willing her to take him out of his body and into the afterlife.

A sudden rush of fresh, life-giving air, as sweet as roses suddenly flowed into his lungs. Of course, nobody drowns in Heaven...

He exhaled, bubbles flowing out of his mouth, his head lolling on his neck. The Angel's lips found his again, and once more, his lungs were filled with air.

The new rush of oxygen jump-started his brain back up, and he opened his eyes with a start.

The Angel was floating in front of him in the water, and had somehow transformed into Sirena Ong. She came back to him, and sealed her lips over his again, and air filled his lungs.

Monarch could not begin to imagine how she was doing it.

"How?" he mouthed at her, as she pulled back.

She pointed to her neck, first one side and then the other. Little pink diagonal flaps ran from her earlobes to the base of her neck, fluttering in the water.

Gills! Apparently marine mutations ran in the Ong family.

"Far out," Monarch mouthed, raising an eyebrow.

The girl smiled and then breathed for him again. She filled his lungs three more times, and then held up a hand in front of his face and made a fist. She wanted him to hold his breath.

He nodded to let her know he understood.

She patted his cheek reassuringly, and then focused on the padlock at his waist. She twisted it, and pulled, but it was firmly fastened. The chains were tight around him, with no give at all.

Next she tried to unfasten the chain from the anchor, but it was knotted through in a way that could only be released by opening the lock. She pulled on the chain, trying to move the anchor, but it was hopeless.

She made a gesture of frustration, then came back to him and breathed into his lungs. When she pulled back, she pointed up to the surface, and then held up a finger, indicating that she would be right back.

He nodded, and she pushed off the bottom and shot to the surface. He just watched her go, hoping she would come back.

Sirena broke through the surface and screamed as loud as she could.

"HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!"

She waited, panting, treading water, listening for a response, anything. But there was only silence.

"ANYBODY, PLEASE, HELP ME!"

Nothing.

"MotherFUCKER!"

Diving back under the water, she swam down to The Blue Morpho again. She sealed her lips over his and breathed for him, her mind racing, trying to think of a solution.

Freeing him from the anchor wasn't an option, but she couldn't go for help, or he would drown.

He suddenly pulled back from her. She opened her eyes, and he mouthed something to her.

"Inside coat pocket."

She slipped her hand inside his overcoat, looking for the inside breast pocket in which most men kept their wallet. Her searching fingers wrapped around a small cylinder, about the size of a lighter.

She pulled it out and held it up.

He nodded enthusiastically, then tilted his head back and looked pointedly toward the surface. He wanted her to take the item up with her.

She gave him a few more lungfuls of air, then pulled back and kicked off the bottom, swimming upwards.

At the surface, she examined the object she'd retrieved from his pocket. It looked like a small flashlight. At the base of it was a button. Cautiously, she pushed it, and a small light on the thing began blinking. It seemed to be some kind of beacon.

She looked around, and tossed the object up onto the dock, then dove beneath the water once again.

21 flew the Morphomobile over the city as low as he dared, sick with worry. It had been over two hours since Monarch had been abducted by the unknown thugs in the limo.

He'd done his best to tail the vehicle, but it WAS New York, and he'd quickly lost track of it in the sea of similar vehicles.

Now he had no idea what he should do. For all he knew, his best friend could already be dead.

"Knock it off, man," he scolded himself, "That is NOT helping."

He checked his cellphone for the ninetieth time in an hour, but Monarch hadn't tried to contact him. The distress beacon receiver was still silent, laying on the passenger seat. Fat lot of use that damned thing had turned out to be...

Suddenly the receiver came to life, beeping and flashing.

Taking back his mean thoughts about the device, he snatched it up and checked the screen. His heart soared as he saw the minuscule letter 'M' blinking on the grid.

"Oh, thank God."

Given the coordinates, Monarch was signalling him from near the lake in the park, not far from where they'd first met Sirena.

He turned the wheel sharply and headed toward the park.

A few minutes later, 21 hurried down the steep hill to the lake, still following the signal. He walked out onto the dock, confused, shaking his head. This didn't make sense.

"If you're up a tree again, I am gonna kick your ASS," he muttered, shaking the device.

He was about to head back up the hill, when a tiny flashing light at the end of the dock caught his eye, and he rushed toward it.

Kneeling, he picked up Monarch's distress beacon, blinking away. And there, a few feet away, was his blue fedora.

He surged to his feet, looking around, calling through his cupped hands as he made his way back toward the bank.

"BOSS! WHERE ARE YOU?!"

"KANO!"

The girl's voice screamed his name and he jumped a foot in the air. He whirled and saw Sirena Ong treading water just off the end of the dock.

"Mr. Morpho's trapped, HELP ME!" she shouted, then dove under the water.

"SHIT!"

21 dropped the tracker and bolted for the end of the dock, stripping off his heavy coat and cap on the way.

Taking a deep breath, he dove in. The water was very clear, and well-lit by the full moon. He could see straight to the bottom. There was Sirena swimming downward...

Then he saw Monarch.

His eyes widened in alarm, and he swam harder. As he reached his partner, Sirena had her mouth sealed over Monarch's and seemed to be breathing for him.

A moment later, she turned to 21, seized his face in her hands and pressed her lips over his.

He stiffened in surprise, and then relaxed as she exhaled air into his lungs. When she pulled back, he saw the gills on her neck.

Cool. Just like Kevin Costner in Waterworld...

21 left Sirena to focus on breathing for Monarch, while he concentrated on the chain tethering his partner to the anchor.

It was a heavy-gauge chain, and there was no slack whatsoever. The coils imprisoning Monarch's torso were just as tight, and held with a padlock at his waist.

He grabbed the lock and wrenched at it, but there was no give at all. His chest was just beginning to burn, when Sirena grabbed his face and refilled his starving lungs. He gave a thumbs up, and went back to examining the lock.

It wouldn't budge.

Movement caught his eye and he looked up to find Monarch shaking his head.

"Bolt cutters," the red-haired man mouthed, "Trunk."

21 nodded, and pushed off the bottom, rocketing to the surface. He swam to the bank, scrambled up the boat ramp, and ran up the hill to the Morphomobile.

Sirena breathed into Morpho's mouth again, but he was starting to fade, becoming exhausted. She looked upward, wondering what was keeping Kano.

There was a splash from above, and a pair of heavy-gauge bolt cutters sank down to lay on the bottom beside her. A moment later, there was another splash, and Kano returned and snatched them up.

Kano tried to get the bolt cutters around one of the coils of chain around Morpho's body, but it was too tight. He couldn't cut the chain without cutting into his friend's flesh. Next he focused on the padlock, easing the heavy jaws of the cutters around the slim, brass body of the lock.

Baring his teeth, Kano leaned on the bolt cutters with all his strength. The lock started to give.

Then suddenly, in the middle of taking a breath, Morpho began choking. Sirena tried to hold her mouth over his, but his lungs were spasming, and as fast as she blew air in, they coughed it back out.

His eyes were squeezed shut in agony, and he thrashed and wrenched at the chains holding him, panicking, a cloud of bubbles around his head.

She grabbed two fistfuls of his hair to hold him still and tried again to breathe for him, and this time he exhaled water into her mouth. He was drowning.

Just then she heard a metallic crunch, and looked down to find the split padlock sinking to the bottom.

Kano's big hands began furiously loosening the chains around his boss's body and they sank to the bottom like a coiled metal serpent.

The Blue Morpho had lost consciousness, and Sirena couldn't move any air past the water that now filled his lungs. She turned to Kano and gave him a quick breath, then gestured in alarm at Morpho.

Kano's eyes flew wide. He threw his arm around his partner's waist and pushed off the bottom, kicking frantically for the surface. Sirena swam at his side, trying to assist him as best she could.

They broke the surface, and the big man gasped, trying to keep himself and his partner afloat. He started to swim for shore, but he was exhausted and Morpho's body was hindering him.

"Give him to me!" Sirena shouted.

She hooked her arm around the lifeless crime-fighter's chest in a hold she remembered from her lifesaving lessons and kicked toward the shore, with Kano following right behind her.

As soon as their feet touched the bottom, Kano took Morpho from her grasp and started to scoop him up in his big, bear-like arms. Sirena stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"No, no!" she said quickly, "Put him over your shoulder, it'll help his lungs drain!"

He did as she instructed and carried the limp vigilante up the boat ramp beside the dock, water streaming from the unconscious man's mouth.

"Do you know CPR?" he asked, dropping to his knees and easing Morpho down onto the ground.

"Yeah!" she exclaimed. She took her place beside the masked hero, tilted his head back, and watched as Kano did chest compressions.

"One... two... three... four... five, BREATHE," he ordered.

She leaned over, pinched shut Morpho's aquiline nose, placed her lips over his, and exhaled once... then twice. She looked up as Kano began the next set of compressions.

"One... two... three... four... five, BREATHE."

Again and again and again... Sirena lost count of how many sets they had done. The minutes ticked by, but Kano wasn't giving up.

"Come on, boss," he begged, pressing on his friend's chest, "Come on, please, you can do it."

Sirena did two rescue breaths, and felt tears starting to sting her eyes. It wasn't working.

"One... two... three... four... five, BREATHE!"

Nothing.

"Goddammit, dude!" Kano shouted, shaking the lifeless figure before him, "You fucking die on me, and I'll have 24 kick your ass!"

Sirena had no clue whatsoever what he was talking about.

He started another set of chest compressions, water dripping from his face with each thrust. It was all Sirena could do to keep control over her emotions as she diligently continued the rescue breaths.

"One... two... three... four... five, BREATHE!"

More chest compressions, more rescue breaths. After a few more sets, Kano's big hand settled gently on her shoulder, and she looked up at him.

There were tears running down the big man's face, streaming from under the edge of his mask. He shook his head and closed his eyes.

"Stop," he said brokenly, "He's gone."

Sirena sat back on her heels, looking down sadly at The Blue Morpho's still, pale face. She reached down and softly stroked his cold cheek.

He'd saved her life. She would have given anything to be able to return the favor.

"Oh, God...," Kano sobbed, covering his face with his hands.

She moved next to him and wrapped her arms around him, laying her head on his quaking shoulder, weeping with him over their mutual loss.

The full moon sparkled on the surface of the lake. The wind rustled the trees. Somewhere in the park, an owl hooted. The world was moving on. Their sorrow was irrelevant.

Suddenly, Morpho's back arched violently, and a great explosion of water came spraying from his mouth.

"Oh Jesus, thank you," Sirena moaned, collapsing, sobbing into her hands.

Kano quickly rolled the smaller man on his side, holding him steady as his lungs purged themselves of water. The vigilante choked and retched, his whole body convulsing as he gasped for air.

When Morpho had finished regurgitating water, Kano sat him up and crushed him in a hug, his broad shoulders heaving with relief. He shifted slightly to cradle the smaller man against his chest as the crime-fighter's breathing slowly returned to normal.

"That's it, boss," the big man coaxed, sniffling, wiping his nose, "Come on... come back to us, now."

Sirena moved to sit across from them as Morpho slowly opened his eyes. His eyes flicked around, uncertainly, and then his gaze settled on Kano's face.

For a long time, the goateed man was silent and still. Then, everything that had happened seemed to come back to him in an overwhelming rush.

With a sob, he turned and pressed his face into Kano's chest, and began to shake.

"Kano," came the hoarse croak. He reached up with trembling fingers and clutched at the larger man's white shirt.

"Shhh," Kano breathed, pulling him closer, moving one hand to cradle the back of his head, weaving his gloved fingers through the short, red hair.

"You're OK... you're OK, buddy, it's all over."

He pressed his lips briefly against the crown of the smaller man's head, then laid his cheek there, wrapping him in his big arms, holding him tight.

"Shhh, I gotcha..."

Sirena had to wipe fresh tears from her eyes as she watched the burly chauffeur comfort his partner.

After a few minutes, Morpho pulled back from his bodyguard's embrace and looked around. His dark, searching eyes found Sirena, and she smiled at him.

After a moment of apparent confusion, he smiled weakly back at her.

"Hello, Angel," he said cryptically, his voice ragged.

"Hi there," she laughed through her tears, and moved closer so she could brush her fingers across his wet brow, "You scared the hell out of me."

"Sorry," he said quietly, reaching up to take her hand, "And thanks for... for saving my life."

"Pardon the cliché," she said with a smile and a shrug, "But I guess we're even, now."

He gave a pained chuckle, and she held his wet, gloved hand to her cheek.

A few minutes later the trio made their way back up the steep, winding path to the Morphojet. Sirena led the way, carrying The Blue Morpho's soaked overcoat and jacket over one arm, his hat in her hand.

Behind her, Kano carried Morpho, wrapped up in his dry chauffeur's jacket. The vigilante was still too weak from his near-drowning to manage the trek up the hill. He dozed, safely cradled in his bodyguard's protective arms, nestled against the big man's warmth, his head resting on Kano's shoulder.

"How you feelin'?" Sirena asked him softly, coming to walk at Kano's side.

"Exhausted," Morpho replied hoarsely, "I hurt aaaaallll over. And my lungs feel like I tried to smoke a cactus."

"I would think that's pretty normal," she chuckled.

"You've got a big honking welt on your cheek," Kano added, adjusting the smaller man in his arms.

"Rocco punched me in the face right before they threw me in," Morpho grumbled, "Seemed redundant."

"That's Rocco in a nutshell," Sirena concurred, "Fucking dickbag."

"You've got some broken blood vessels in your eyes, too," Kano added, looking closely at his friend's face.

"Sounds sooo attractive," the vigilante groaned miserably, snuggling against his bodyguard's chest, "Guess that Esquire cover shoot will need to be postponed."

Sirena giggled, reaching over to tug Kano's jacket more tightly around Morpho's body as he shivered a bit. She briefly pressed her hand to his brow, checking for fever.

"Watch out for pneumonia, guys," she said, "Water in your lungs isn't good. I mean, you know, I've read..."

"Right," Kano replied with a nod, looking down at his boss, "And I need to check your ribs, too. Make sure I didn't crack any during the chest compressions."

"I feel so shitty right now, I don't think I would notice cracked ribs," Morpho groaned.

"Aww," Sirena cooed.

"Still," he went on, lifting his head and looking her in the eye, "I would NOT be here to complain if it wasn't for you, Miss Ong. So again, thank you."

"Well," she shrugged, "It WAS kinda my fault."

"No, it absolutely was NOT...," Morpho countered.

"OK, then, it was my dumb-ass dad's fault," she continued, sadly, "And by association, my fault."

"You're not responsible for your father's actions, honey," Kano said firmly.

"You guys wouldn't understand," she sighed, running a hand through her drying hair, "It's...,"

"What?" the big man coaxed, "Go on."

"That's how a crime family operates," she said, shaking her head, "You're not super-villains, so you don't really get it."

"Oh, you'd be surprised," Morpho coughed.

"Stop talking," Kano said sharply to him, "Stop talking, NOW."

Morpho obediently fell silent.

As they arrived at the car, Kano paused, looking down at the man cradled in his arms.

Sirena turned to watch the two interact.

As if sensing his partner's scrutiny, Morpho raised his head and looked his bodyguard in the eye.

"Kano?" he inquired softly, "You OK?"

Closing his eyes, Kano leaned down and pressed his forehead to Morpho's.

"You're gonna be the death of me, dude," the big man murmured fondly, shaking his head very slightly for a moment before withdrawing.

Sirena smiled at the sweet, heartwarming moment.

"Sorry," Morpho rasped, "Oh and... good call on the distress beacon."

Kano nodded with a smile, and set him gently on his feet beside the car. The weary vigilante leaned up against the vehicle with a groan.

"Here, give me his stuff," Kano said, reaching out.

Sirena handed him the wet clothing and hat, and the chauffeur stepped around the back of the car to the trunk, opened it, and rummaged inside.

Morpho coughed wretchedly, his whole body shaking, and she moved closer to lay a steadying hand on his back.

Kano closed the trunk and came back to them, holding up a heavy wool blanket.

"Trade you for my jacket?" He said with a grin.

Morpho nodded absently, and with Sirena's help, shrugged out of the over-sized garment in which he was swaddled.

Kano draped the blanket around the slender man's shoulders, then took his jacket from Sirena and slipped it on.

"OK, in you go," he said, popping the gull-wing door up.

Sirena climbed in first, then reached out and took Morpho's arm as Kano helped him in beside her. Despite her objections, the masked vigilante insisted on wrapping the blanket around her shoulders as well.

"You're wet, too," he said, "Plenty of room for both of us under here."

"I'll have the heat cranked up in a second," Kano said, as he moved to the driver's side and climbed in, "Just make sure he doesn't fall out, will you?"

"He's not going anywhere," Sirena answered, holding tight to Morpho's arm with both hands.

"First stop, Tophet Tower," Kano announced, starting the engine.

"You guys know you can just land on the roof, right?" Sirena suggested, pointing as they approached her penthouse.

"What?!" Kano exclaimed, looking at her in disbelief.

"The helipad," she explained, "Just set the car down there, and we can avoid everybody."

"You are KIDDING me," Morpho croaked.

"Naw, it's cool," she went on, "My room is right there. Nobody'll ever know you were here. Easy peasy."

Kano and The Blue Morpho looked pointedly across at each other. Then Morpho collapsed back against the seat with an exhausted-sounding laugh.

"What?" Sirena asked, smiling, not understanding the joke, "What's so funny?"

"Let's just say that we REALLY wish you'd been awake last time," Kano chuckled, shaking his head.

He landed the vehicle lightly on the helipad, and the trio clambered out onto the roof.

"Uhh, is that a security camera?" Morpho said nervously, pointing at the camera mounted on the corner of the building, pointed directly at them.

"Yeah," Sirena said, "But don't worry, I hack into the video feed all the time, I'll just wipe that part of the file."

"You can DO that?" Morpho asked, sounding impressed.

"How do you think I manage to sneak out so often without getting caught?" She said with a wink as she started down the stairs to her veranda.

"Cool!" Kano exclaimed, following her down the steps, then turning and offering a hand to Morpho, who waved him away and descended himself.

"I've spent a good portion of my life shut up in this stupid penthouse," she said, "With nothing but my computer to pass the time, so I started teaching myself a few tricks."

"Wicked!" the big bodyguard said in admiration, "What else can you do?"

"What do you need?" she laughed, "Seriously, I even hack into my dad's files sometimes so I know when he's gonna be out of town."

"Really!" Kano grinned and looked over at Morpho, who just cocked an eyebrow at him.

"That... seems dangerous," Morpho interjected.

"Pfft," Sirena scoffed, "I'm the daughter of a super-villain, I'm in danger all the time anyway."

"Sounds like YOU, dude," Kano laughed, tousling Morpho's damp hair and earning a glare.

They crossed the veranda and stood outside Sirena's room. Suddenly nobody knew what to say, and the silence drew on, beginning to border on uncomfortable.

She was deep in thought, trying to think of the right thing to say.

"So, what happens now?" she finally asked, looking from Morpho to Kano.

"Well," Morpho said softly, still holding the blanket around his shoulders, "Your father thinks I'm dead."

"And it might be best to keep it that way," Kano added quietly, "We need to lay low for awhile, maybe even avoid the city completely."

"Oh," Sirena said, lowering her eyes.

There was another terribly uncomfortable silence. When Sirena spoke again her voice was almost too low to hear.

"Yeah, but," she fumbled over her words, "I mean... what about, you know, the three of us?"

"What do you mean?" Morpho replied, cocking his head.

"I MEAN," she said, "Are we, like, friends... or what?"

The two men looked at each other, as if not sure how to respond.

"I'll ALWAYS think of you as a friend," Morpho finally said, coming to stand in front of her, smiling.

"Me too," Kano chimed in.

"Why do I feel like there's a 'but' coming?" Sirena said, narrowing her eyes.

Morpho nodded, holding up his hands.

"But," he said, "You can't be involved in what we do."

"I don't understand," she said, putting her hands on her hips, "Involved?"

"What we mean is," Kano added, "For you to have a connection to us... it's just not safe."

"Not safe for me, or for you?" she asked.

"For ANY of us," Morpho murmured, shuffling his feet uncomfortably.

"So, no contact at all?" she asked, blinking up at them with her violet-blue eyes.

"I'm afraid not." Morpho turned his face away, hugging the blanket around himself more tightly.

She nodded. The answer was about what she'd been expecting, but it still made her terribly sad. She'd grown fond of the pair of vigilantes, even after only a couple of days knowing them. The thought of being cut off from them filled her with a feeling of loss.

Fighting back tears, she walked over to Kano and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. The stocky man stiffened for a moment, then awkwardly returned the embrace, patting her back.

"Goodbye, Kano," she murmured into his jacket, "You look after Mr. Morpho, OK?"

"Always," the big man replied, his voice rumbling his chest, "It's a full-time job."

She chuckled as she released him from her arms. He turned and walked back up the steps to the Morphomobile, climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine.

Sirena swallowed hard and moved to stand in front of The Blue Morpho.

"I'm never gonna see you again, am I?" she murmured sadly, as realization sank in.

He didn't respond for a long moment. Just looked at her, his dark eyes glittering.

"I don't know, honey," he said at last, with a sad smile, "And that's the truth. I just can't say."

She nodded. Then she walked to him, stood on her tiptoes, and placed a quick, chaste kiss on his pale cheek. He twitched in surprise, and she had to fight down an inappropriate giggle.

"Goodbye, Mr. Morpho."

"Goodbye, Miss Ong."

"If you guys ever need anything," she said, feeling tears starting to trail down her cheeks, "I mean, if I can ever be of any help, you know where to find me, right?"

Morpho nodded silently, reaching out to swipe a tear from her cheek with his gloved thumb.

Then without a word, he turned and crossed to the stairway, climbed to the helipad, and slid into the passenger seat of the Mercedes.

The blue jets fired up and the car lifted off the roof. Sirena moved to the railing of the patio, waving as the vehicle turned, and disappeared into the night.

She stood there for a long time, just mulling over the events of the last few days. Then she wiped her eyes and slowly walked across the patio and into her room, closed the sliding glass door, and drew the curtains.

"Well THAT sucked," Monarch said succinctly.

"I know," 21 agreed, nodding a bit, "But you did the right thing."

"Oh yeah?" the older man asked, staring down at the city below.

"Then why do I feel like such a bastard?" he added quietly, rubbing his eyes.

"I'm sorry, man," 21 said quietly, reaching over to pat the older man's knee.

"Did you see the way she looked at me?" Monarch mumbled, shaking his head slightly. He looked over as his bodyguard gave a short laugh.

"Dude, you DO know she has a crush on you, right?" 21 asked as he banked the Morphojet back toward Newark.

"Please," the red-haired man folded his arms and looked out the window, "Teenage girls ALL go through this weird phase where older men become intriguing."

"Aaand you know that, HOW, again?"

Monarch just made a face at him, and pulled the blanket more tightly around his shoulders with a shiver.

21 noticed and reached down to turn the heat up a little higher. Not that it would do much good with both the doors wide open.

"So you're saying she DOESN'T have a crush on you?" 21 asked, glancing over at him.

Monarch shrugged.

"She kissed you," 21 pointed out.

"Yeah... so did YOU... what's your point?"

"It was pretty adorable, really," the henchman muttered.

"I don't want to talk about it anymore," the older man muttered.

"Dude," the burly bodyguard said, "We broke her heart."

"You are NOT helping."

"Sorry." 21 fell silent, concentrating on flying.

Monarch fell into a melancholy silence. After a minute, he absently reached up and rubbed the spot where she'd kissed him.

"OK fine," he finally relented, "She might have a teeny crush on me, but this time next month she'll have forgotten alllll about us."

"Hmph," came the non-committal reply from his driver.

The flight home seemed inordinately long and uncomfortable tonight.

"What should we have done differently?" 21 finally asked, looking over at his withdrawn companion.

"You mean besides taking her straight to her bedroom the FIRST time, instead of dumping her in the LOBBY, thereby AVOIDING this clusterfuck of a weekend?"

"Well yeah, that," 21 conceded, "But you know, hindsight, whatever."

More silence.

"You mean, should we consider having contact with her in the future?" Monarch muttered quietly.

"Yes, that," the younger man said, with a nod, "Exactly that."

"Wide Wale's daughter CANNOT be in cahoots with a team of masked vigilantes!"

"If you say so, dude," the burly henchman replied, insincerely, "But her computer access WOULD come in handy."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning," 21 said, "She could break into Wale's files for us."

"Wait, wait, wait," Monarch said, holding a hand to his eyes, "I thought it was MY job to come up with the dumb-ass, dangerous ideas?"

"I'm branching out," 21 said, grinning a little.

"I don't believe I'm hearing this," Monarch said incredulously, turning in his seat to stare at his partner.

"Well," the chauffeur went on, "If you still want to arch Venture, eventually we're going to have to take Wide Wale down, right?"

"You would have me ask a TEENAGE GIRL to spy on her super-villain father for us?" the older man said in disbelief, "Do you know what kind of danger that could put her in?"

"She'd be safe enough," the younger man said with a shrug, "We could protect her."

"SO much wrong with this, I don't know where to start," Monarch muttered, "Oh, and hey, don't forget that I MURDERED her uncle Douglas, what about when THAT little factoid comes to light?"

"OK, it was just an idea," the henchman said, turning the wheel and banking toward Newark, New Jersey.

"Yeah, a TERRIBLE idea...," Monarch said, firmly.

"Whatever," 21 said, "Forget I mentioned it."

"Fine."

The Morphojet flew on through the night, carrying its masked heroes home.

THE END


End file.
